My job was ordinary and stressless until Ulomma was diagnosed with that strange disease. I had then decided that it was more serious than looking for our daily bread. I no longer ran shifts. I was always at work.

I was privileged of seeing my parents but my sister wasn’t, as they died at subsequent times immediately after her birth. I became the bread winner and had to do everything to make sure my sister had a relatively normal life.

I was a master of the poles and where I worked was the arena with deafening music where a photo flash epileptic patient had nothing to do with. I was proud of my job though people saw it as belittling or dishonorable. I convicted that I was using my skills to get money. I used to console myself that at least I never went home with any man after a night. I was well known for my skills at the pole. I chose for myself the pseudonym Slytherin because of how flexible I was and of course my love for Harry Potter. Today’s job wasn’t different from the other days. I had gained favor in the sight of the men who regularly visited the bar. I would not have started performing before they began chanting my name and dropping naira notes on the floor.
I began today playing around the poles not without stylishly observing the men, assuming which was more loaded than the other. Then did I apply theatrics going from one to another, moving seductively and allowing their hands to define my silhouette to their mind’s eye. I got the usual round of applause when I was done with my performance and all the men tried to draw my attention so I would stay with them which was practically a wasted effort. As I headed to the dressing room dusting all the sparkles I put on that night, I was stopped by a voice.
‘Hello and good evening Miss’, he said.

I paused before I could reply.
‘O good evening sir and how may I help you.’
I was surprised and pleased at the gentleman because he was the first of his kind I had seen to talk politely to a stripper and not acting like her body had a price it bent for or that he was doing her a favor. After I counted my proceeds for the night for which he waited patiently. He invited me to a hotel which to my own surprise I obliged.

While at the hotel, we talked at length, he told me about himself and I did same. I was slightly embarrassed that my stories had to deal with the sufferings of the world, of struggles, neglect and ill luck. His were a smooth ride of comfort amidst unnecessary grief. It was his first time in a strip club precedent of his long term girlfriend breaking his heart that night. Amidst the conversations I was scared of what I was to do that night. I had decided to be impulsive enough to be with a man I just met just for the reason of some chemistry that I felt was between us that could end up nonexistent. It would be worse than a hangover from an office holiday party. After we had satisfied our curiosity with words. He yawned, turned his face to the other side of the bed and slept. I woke up alone the next morning with a bundle of cash beside me. Underneath it was a note.

‘Sorry, had to get busy. Wonderful time with you though. Drop a mail, if we need to talk. Hope that helps with your sister.’

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